Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
VIVI
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
The noise echoes through my head, making my brow furrow.
Crinkle.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
My lips curl down. “Gaby?” I guess, barely awake. “Are you eating chips?” The question sounds groggy to my ears. I feel strange. Hungover, yet not.
And thirsty.
Very thirsty.
Peering toward my nightstand, I search for my usual bottle. Only… only my nightstand is not my nightstand. It’s an ornate piece of furniture that I’ve never seen before.
Except, no. That’s not true. It’s…
My eyes fly open as a gasp leaves my mouth. King Negru.
I’m in his castle.
In a guest suite.
And I’m alive.
I think, anyway.
My hands start roaming my body, searching for signs of death. But all I find is smooth skin.
Because I’m naked.
Very, very naked.
I’m also not alone in the room.
Because that crunching sound hasn’t stopped, and neither has the crinkling.
Warily, I roll toward it, then gape at finding Marius lounging in a chair near the bed, his gaze on the windows. “Not Gaby,” he murmurs, then glances at me. “You ready to head back to Bra?ov?”
I blink at him. “What?”
“Tour’s over,” he says. “Ciprian told me to take you back to your hotel. So once you’re ready, we’ll hit the road.”
“Ciprian?” I echo, not sure who he’s talking about. “Does King Negru know about this?”
“King Negru is Ciprian.” Marius utters the words slowly, like he’s explaining something to a child. “And he told me to escort you out first thing, but I’m a gentleman. Which is why I let you sleep.” He checks his watch. “But we really should go before he realizes you’re still here.”
My brow furrows. “He wants me to leave?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
I sit up, then grasp for the sheets when I remember that I have nothing on, and glare at the male in my room. “Get out.”
“Excuse me?”
“Get. Out.” I enunciate the demand with acute precision, my tone flat. “And tell Ciprian that if he wants me to go, he can come say that to my face.”
Because there is no way I am leaving this castle without having a stern word with him.
He can’t just bite me and discard me. Not after… I don’t…
Okay. He’s a monster. A Strigoi King. I guess he can technically do whatever he wants. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to merely accept this.
“Just to make sure we’re clear—you’re refusing to leave, right?” Marius asks, causing my gaze to narrow even more.
“I’m not going anywhere until I talk to Ciprian.” It’s probably not the wisest decision to demand an audience with the male who all but killed me last night.
But I’m not feeling all that intelligent this morning.
I’m feeling… elated. Furious. Invincible.
That final sensation isn’t something I can describe. I simply feel alive in a way I never have before. And leaving is the absolute last thing I want to do.
“Excellent.” Marius hops up to his feet, chip bag in hand. “I’ll be sure to let His Majesty know.” He starts toward the door, then pauses to say, “Thanks for making this easy, Ms. Dalca.”
“Making what easy?” I ask as he heads through the threshold.
“Oh, and be ready in thirty minutes,” he calls back to me. “Ciprian intends to have you for lunch.”
The door slams before I can ask what he means by that.
Of course, after last night, I’m pretty sure have you for lunch is a direct description of future events.
Which leaves me frowning at the door.
He just told me Ciprian wants me to leave. And now he’s saying the Strigoi King wants to eat me?
I shake my head, confused.
Then growl when I hear the snick of a lock, telling me I’m once again a prisoner in this room.
“That’s not confusing at all,” I say to no one in particular. “You tell me to leave, then lock me inside. So which is it, Strigoi King? Do you want me gone? Or am I your captive?”
Okay, I guess I’m talking to Ciprian. But I doubt he can hear me.
Or maybe he’s listening.
On the chance he is, I keep talking. “How about I tell you what I’m not going to be?” I pull the blankets off myself, determined to find something to wear. But I pause when I see the dried blood between my legs.
Memories of last night flash through my mind, how he held me down on the table and devoured my intimate flesh.
A wave of arousal warms my blood, the reaction one at odds with the skip in my pulse.
I thought I was dying.
Yet there’s no evidence of my weakened state.
I simply feel rejuvenated, like I just experienced the best night of rest in my life.
That sensation of invincibility comes over me again as I move, my legs stronger than normal. Even my movements seem to be faster.
What did he do to me? I wonder, standing and spinning around in a quick circle. Why do I feel like I could fly right now?
It’s strange. It’s enlightening. It’s otherworldly.
Despite the growing sense of insanity, I smile. “Not sure what’s happening to me, but I like it.”
Then I remember that I was talking to the Strigoi King.
Or pretending to, anyway.
And I was in the middle of saying what I’m not going to be. Right. “You want me for lunch? The answer is no, my king. We need to talk about the rules and the importance of consent first.”
Bold words, I suppose. But they’re important to say after last night.
I don’t even know what happened.
His tail was there.
Followed by his mouth.
Did he fuck me? I look down, frowning. I’m not sore at all. Which is strange. After everything he did inside me with that triangle tip, I should feel something.
Well, regardless, I need to at least wash the blood off.
I start toward the bathroom, then pause at the tray on the table.
A tray full of snacks, including bags of chips.
Arching my brow, I thumb through it and grab a banana, as well as a water, and take them with me on my quest to the shower.
The rainfall pours over my head for a lot longer than thirty minutes, something I do on purpose because I want to defy Marius’s statement, and also because it feels interesting.
It’s like I can see the tiny droplets falling in slow motion. Such a bizarre realization, one that puts me under a strange sort of trance. The water gliding along my skin captivates me, too. The soothing sensation is hypnotic. Mesmerizing. Wonderful.
I trace a path down my arm, then giggle at the tingling feeling that follows.
Only for a growl to make all the hair dance against the back of my neck. “I do not like to be kept waiting, Ms. Dalca.”
“Oh?” I draw out the word but don’t look at him. “Well, I don’t like waking up and being told to leave by a Strigoi’s familiar.”
I bend down and pick up a bottle, then read the French label. Even without studying the language, I would still recognize the translation for shampoo.
Well, I haven’t washed my hair yet, so I may as well do that now.
While the Strigoi King waits.
Opening the bottle, I lather the light pink liquid into my hair. It has a hint of strawberries to it that I find quite pleasant.
Of course, the scent of lavender and vanilla is stronger.
And it’s coming from behind me.
“I also don’t appreciate nearly bleeding out on a dining table,” I go on as I move beneath the spray, my back still to the Strigoi King.
“I’m not particularly fond of losing time or memories either.
” I utter the words while drawing my fingers through my hair.
“And I strongly dislike being locked in a room when I’ve shown no desire to escape. ”
I finish rinsing the shampoo, then bend to pick up the conditioner.
A subtle growl echoes behind me, the owner of it obviously growing impatient.
Rather than acknowledge the sound, I say, “I’m not fond of rules without explanations, Your Majesty. So, if you want me to behave, you’ll have to actually talk to me. Not fuck me with your tail. Not kiss me senseless or bite me. But talk to me.”
I turn as I massage the conditioner into my scalp and finally meet the monster’s obsidian gaze. It’s practically burning with annoyance, little crimson flares flickering in the irises. “Are you done chastising me, pet?”
“Probably not,” I sass back at him, feeling particularly confident.
Which makes no sense since Marius told me that Ciprian wants me to leave.
But maybe that just means I have nothing to lose.
If the Strigoi King has decided he’s done with me, then I may as well give him a piece of my mind.
“There are much better uses for your mouth, Ms. Dalca,” King Negru informs me. “Perhaps a lesson on your knees will remind you who and what I am.”
“I’m staring at you right now, Ciprian,” I say, using his first name mostly to piss him off, but also because I happen to like the way it sounds. “I know exactly who and what you are.”
“Yet you speak to me as though we are equals,” he returns.
“If we were equals, you would be as naked as I am right now. Not dressed in a freshly pressed suit while I shower in front of you,” I point out, then step back to rinse the conditioner from my hair while he watches.
I can’t see him since my eyes are closed, but I can feel his gaze on me like a burning caress against my skin. It’s both a welcome sensation and a chilling one. Because I can’t tell if he’s thinking about devouring me again or outright killing me.
Perhaps a bit of both.
Turning, I go to find a shower gel or something to clean off my skin. I meant to focus on the area between my thighs, but I hesitate now.
Will that be too much? I wonder, frowning.
Then I give myself a mental shrug. Nothing to lose, remember?
King Negru growls again, the sound echoing through the oversized shower as I use a soap bar—I couldn’t find any gel—to start cleaning myself.
“Are you trying to tempt me, pet?” he asks.
“I didn’t invite you in to watch,” I return. “So no. I’m merely trying to get rid of the aftermath from last night.” I face him again. “Which is another thing I don’t like—I don’t like waking up with dried blood between my legs. It’s uncomfortable.”
He leans against the glass—there isn’t a shower door, just an open space large enough for him to walk through with his wings. But he doesn’t do that. He stays about five feet away from me, only further highlighting how large this shower is.
“Anything else you want to tell me?” he asks, and I can tell by his flat tone and his bored expression that he’s not actually interested in what I have to say.
Which naturally only makes me want to talk more.
And more than that, I want to surprise him.
“I enjoyed your tail between my legs,” I admit.
His nostrils flare in response, breaking his stoic countenance. It’s a minute change, but enough to encourage me to continue speaking.
“I think asking for permission next time might be a good idea, though,” I add.
“Permission?” he echoes.
“Yes.” I trail the bar of soap along my lower stomach and downward to my shaved mound. “Acquiring my consent ensures my enthusiastic participation, Ciprian.”
“You were more than enthusiastic last night, Viviana.”
I shiver, the way my name rolls off his tongue resembling a seductive purr. “Was I enthusiastic after nearly bleeding out on the table?”
His brow furrows a little. “You’re healed.”
“That’s not the point.” I set the soap bar aside and rinse myself off, then saunter toward him, uncaring that I’m completely naked. “Wouldn’t you rather I be a willing participant while you fuck me?”
“I didn’t fuck you last night.” He straightens to tower over me as we square off in the shower threshold. “I want to hear you scream while I use you, pet.”
“Then ask me for consent so I can give you what you want.”
He arches a brow. “You’ve already given me consent, Viviana. You’re in my castle. My world. My nest. Marius offered you a chance to leave, and you refused. Therefore, you have chosen to remain here as my toy, thus making your intentions clear.”
My lips part, a correction lining my tongue, but suddenly I’m on my knees in the shower and staring straight up at him like last night.
I’m so stunned I can barely feel the pain echoing up my limbs from the abrupt movement.
Or maybe it’s because I’m distracted by his tail—which I belatedly realize is how I ended up in this position.
The appendage slips free from my back, the triangle tip brushing my side before gliding up my torso toward my throat.
“There will be no more talking,” he tells me, his tail wrapping around my neck like a collar as he begins to unzip his pants. “The only sounds I want to hear are the ones of you choking on my cock.”